Lone Wolves

Two of the games I picked up the other day were Fantasy Flight's new Star Wars games, specifically the basic boxed set for The Force Awakens, and the many-hundred page hardcover Force and Destiny. I'll have more to say about these in a later posts, but one thing that disappointed me about the FFG books is the lack of character write-ups; there are no stats for the likes of Obi-Wan Kenobi or Darth Vader, for example, even though they're featured prominently on the cover. Likewise, unlike prior licensed SW games (West End and WotC) there's no supplementary books to purchase that include these stars of the Star Wars universe. I semi-interrogated a game shop employee yesterday regarding this, and the explanation was...well, a bit less than satisfactory. For me, such write-ups are important in terms of figuring scale for a system...as well as I like to see how a system models a specific intellectual property in game terms.

[and, yes, I realize I'm one of those people who likes to rip on character write-ups. I still appreciate a starting point for analysis. Especially in a non-level based game like F&D, it would be nice to get an idea of how much XP goes into making an "old geezer Kenobi," for example]

Anyway, after finishing the Luke Cage series, I started looking at the old Marvel Superhero RPG write-ups for the characters in the show (and the other MCU titles also) just to see how close they came to modeling the powers and stats of their comic book counterparts. Some of these I have available to me, some are available from various fan sites on-line (Jessica Jones, as a comic book character, was not published till after TSR had closed down their original MSH line). While they're all pretty close, there are definitely some differences...and since I prefer the show-versions, I thought it would be fun to do my own write-ups based on the characters' portrayals in their respective series.

I've offer the following for perusal to the interested, presumably people who'd like to run an old school MSH game in the same grim and gritty style as the MCU. Keep in mind that Marvel does NOT due "granular" very well, especially at the lower power levels...but MSH is a lot faster (and less legally dicey) to use for write-ups than Heroes Unlimited (my "go-to" game for granularity).

Luke Cage (as "Power Man") and Daredevil were originally published in the 1984 adventure module MH4: Lone Wolves. Even thought this was written for the "basic" Marvel game, the write-ups changed very little with the advent of the Advanced game. As such, my write-ups should be considered compatible with either version of the classic MSH system.

***

DAREDEVIL

Matt Murdock, Altered Human

Fighting: Incredible (40)

Agility: Incredible (40)

Strength: Good (10)

Endurance: Excellent (20)

Reason: Good (10)

Intuition: Monstrous (75)

Psyche: Good (10)

Health: 110

Karma: 95

Resources: Typical (6)

Popularity: 13 (Good)

POWERS

Matt is blind, but he has trained and developed his remaining senses to such a degree that he has may operate far beyond the capability of a normal human. He may sense individuals by their smell and heartbeat, even through the exterior walls of a building and can sense objects by the way air passes around them. While being blind limits Matt in some ways (he cannot see color or read signs, for example) he is unaffected by effects (like darkness and flash attacks) that hinder others. He wears special body armor that provides him with Typical protection against physical attacks while not limiting his movement, and he uses a collapsable fighting staff made of Incredible strength material.

TALENTS

Matt is a licensed attorney and possesses the Law talent. He is trained in the use of Blunt Weapons, and has extensive Martial Arts training (the equivalent of A, B, and C in the Advanced game).

***

JESSICA JONES

Altered Human

Fighting: Excellent (20)

Agility: Good (10)

Strength: Remarkable (30)

Endurance: Incredible (40)

Reason: Good (10)

Intuition: Remarkable (30)

Psyche: Excellent (20)

Health: 100

Karma: 60

Resources: Typical (6)

Popularity: 4 (Poor)

POWERS

Jessica has some small (Poor) degree of Invulnerability, reducing all damage received by -2 column shifts. She also has the power of Flight (also at Poor rank), which she describes as being "more like controlled leaping;" however, Jessica prefers regular terrestrial means of getting around, for a variety of reasons.

TALENTS

Jessica is a skilled, licensed detective and has the Detective/Espionage skill. She has also received training in Resisting Domination and has developed a discipline of mental exercises to strengthen her will against possible mind control.

***

LUKE CAGE ("POWER MAN")

Carl Lucas, Altered Human

Fighting: Excellent (20)

Agility: Good (10)

Strength: Incredible (40)

Endurance: Remarkable (30)

Reason: Good (10)

Intuition: Good (10)

Psyche: Good (10)

Health: 100

Karma: 30

Resources: Poor (4)

Popularity: 11* (Good)

*Luke has been accused of a crime he didn't commit. If he is cleared of the charges, his popularity will increase to 21 (Excellent).

POWERS

Luke's hardened body provides him with Remarkable protection against physical attacks, the equivalent of steel or reinforced concrete. Against energy attacks, his protection drops four ranks to Poor.  His accelerated healing allows him to heal as if he possessed Incredible endurance.

TALENTS

Prior to his time at Seagate prison, Luke was in the Military and possesses this talent, though he dislikes and avoids using guns. He has received significant training in boxing, giving him the equivalent of Martial Arts B in the Advanced game.

[minor characters and villains...including Wilson Fisk ("Kingpin"), Claire Temple ("Night Nurse"), Trish Walker ("Hellcat"), Frank Castle ("Punisher"), Elektra, and Misty Knight...may be updated in a later post. Maybe. Lots of other stuff to write about, too. Popularity for all characters determined based on the rules provided in the Advanced game]

Back to the Mox...and WotC

There’s no easy way to say this except to say it: I played WotC’s “D&D Next” last night.

Luke, one of my former-regular players at the Baranof, is moving back to the Midwest…not immediately, but within the next couple-few weeks…and I wanted to see him before he left and my schedule is pretty swamped all July.

[in fact, I hadn’t even planned on going out last night because my father is in town and Thursday was the only day that worked with HIS schedule to get together. However, I managed to finish dinner and get the family home by 9 allowing me a couple-three hours of “out” time]

So I headed back to the Mox Café where I haven’t gamed in a loooong-ass time. And I got to see some of the old boys (and girl) and take in a little gaming. And what they were running was D&D Next, WotC’s play-test shenanigans that is supposed to magically morph into 5^th Edition.

*sigh* Where to start?

As is obvious from my posting, I did not spontaneously combust at the sight of a miniature-strewn battle map. Yes, I had fun (aka “a good time”)…though it certainly helped that I’d had a couple beers before showing up and a couple more thereafter. Was it enough fun that I’d play it again…?

*sigh* (again)… Hmmm…I’m having a hard time articulating at the moment. Maybe there isn’t a good place to “start” this “review” and I should just meander a bit. Yeah, let’s do that.

I actually signed up to be part of the D&D Next play-test a while back and was receiving regular email updates, though I haven’t for a few months now. Probably because I chose to “unsubscribe” and report WotC as “spam” in my gmail account. I just wasn’t very impressed with what they were doing. Duh…that’s why I decided to do the whole D&D Mine thing and why I wrote 5AK.

So because I haven’t “kept my hand in” with D&D Next, much of this was new to me. Well, “new” is probably not the most accurate term…but I’ll get to that in a moment. This was definitely my first opportunity to actually play-test DDN in any capacity…and my first time playing any WotC version of D&D since…well, probably since before 2005 (in all honesty, I don’t remember).

Ugh. I AM having a hard time with this. I’m trying to sum up the “gist” of the game in a couple sentences, in order to give my overall impression, after which I would write my usual “elaboration” but there are simply too many pithy phrases coming to mind. I guess I can just list them (in no particular order):

-        It’s a board game.

-        It’s less frustrating than DCC.

-        It’s D&D3 light.

-        Magic-users shoot lasers.

-        It’s the newly revised Revised Chainmail.

-        It’s not an RPG.

-        It’s a hot mess.

(note that any of these phrases could include the words “kind of” after the word “it’s” but I’m trying to be less wishy-washy in my prose)

Okay, let me describe the game play first; then I’ll talk about my thoughts on the thing.

Dan was acting as DM. It was a good sized group: six players, including myself. There was a halfling rogue (natch), an elven ranger, a human cleric, a wizard, and a paladin. I played a 2^nd level dwarf fighter that was handed to me (someone else’s PC from the week prior). The characters appear to have been pre-gens created by the DDN people as I received a 1^st level print-out that broke down how all my PC’s traits and feats worked, but then I also received a (hand-written) character sheet that included changes from prior adventures (including those from “leveling up”).

The adventure (which I entered in media res) was a large subterranean complex, the center of which was a svirfneblin (deep gnome) city that had apparently fallen on hard times. Us surface-worlders were down there looking for jobs and adventure and had several possible mission options. When I arrived at the table (late), I found the five already-present PCs having their asses handed to them by a pack of five orcs. Once I entered, we quickly mopped up (more on combat later) and looted the bodies for something like 12 silver pieces each (I contemptuously allowed the other party members to divvy my share amongst themselves…what the hell was 12sp to me? My character sheet said I was a “noble” and/or “knight”).

After healing ourselves nearly to full power using a short rest, the party decided to retreat back to (gnome) town…the reason being that we were running “low on spells.” After a long rest (these are technical terms with specific game mechanics) we* decided to enter the largest, most dangerous looking cavern on the board, to retrieve a lost gnomish crown for the local strongman/honcho type looking to legitimize his rule.

[*in this case “we” is more of the “royal we,” if you know what I mean]

The party encountered two zombie orcs that weren’t nearly as tough as the earlier live ones, and we quickly put them down. At that point, the group called it a night. From what I gathered, there had been an earlier confrontation with stirges that I had missed (and that the PCs found easy) and one with kobolds (also easy thanks to a “sleep” spell), but I’m not sure if those took place in the same game session (before I showed up) or in the week prior.

OKAY…so that’s what HAPPENED in the session which (if you’ll notice) isn’t a whole lot for two hours of game play (the length of time I was there). Half a fight against less than half a dozen orcs. Some recuperation. A (short) deliberation on objectives. A 2^nd (extremely short) fight. Fini.

There was precious little that could be called “role-playing” that occurred at the table. The players had formed a definite opinion of their gnome warden employer (in short: “a dick, and we should try to double-cross him”), which I presumed was from previous interaction. Some inane war cries were bandied about in combat (that was my contribution). And…um…fini.

What the game really boiled down to was a table-top, skirmish level (i.e. small scale) combat game that has a context (i.e. “setting”) and a number of different and variable options for use in combat. In many ways, it’s no different from a small scale version of World of Warcraft, save that it’s turn based rather than real time (i.e. you can consider your actions without a velociraptor beating on you), and it involves moving miniatures on a board instead of pixels on a screen.

The rules were simple enough that it took me almost no time at all to jump in to the action. It’s just a “lite” version of DND3 with respect to movement and tactical maneuvering…and the whole thing about opportunity attacks and threatened areas are a “no-brainer” to an old hand at Blood Bowl with its movement and “tackle zones.” In fact, I don’t know why they bother giving movement and ranges in feet at all when the scale is always 5’ squares. Why not just say that my dwarf “moves five” and can throw his axe “four” (or 12 with a penalty)? Why bother saying the wizard’s laser blast is 30’ when you can just say “six” (i.e. “six squares”)?

Are the designers afraid that will make the game sound less “role-playey” and more like a board game? Um, designers? This IS a board game.

My PC had as much character as a playing piece in the Dungeon! boardgame…he just had more options on what to do. Julie, playing the elf ranger bless her heart, did NOTHING in the game except wait for her turn to come up in initiative order, at which time she’d roll a D20 to hit and (if successful) roll damage. That’s it. Oh, she used her “hunter’s mark” power as a swift action to give herself a bonus once or twice, but otherwise she exercised no creativity, contributed nothing to the imaginary game world …simply chose a target and rolled a D20 and then damage or not. When her turn came up. Once per round.

I didn’t take the time to ask her (and wouldn’t have wanted to look like a prat anyway), but I wanted to shout: “Is this fun? Are you really having fun? Are you getting anything out of this? And if so, what?”

There were some neat effects in the game that were still kind of dumb. The orcs had a racial trait called “relentless” that allowed them to continue attacking (and making opportunity attacks) one round after being mortally wounded. It’s kind of dumb simply because there seemed to be no rules for “over-killing” the creatures…if I mortally wound the orc and my three comrades continue to attack him, hacking off his arms and head, should it really be allowed an additional attack “just because?” If you want a tougher orc, why not just give it an extra wound…er…hit die…er…(sorry, I’m using terms from my own game which don’t really apply to DDN)…er, more hit points? I don’t really get it…in my opinion it would be a cooler trait for a PC than for a monster.

Rules-wise the game was very basic and very light-weight (though not in comparison to, say, B/X) Tactically, it’s simply about maneuvering efficiently through tackle zones and then “pulling the correct trigger” when it comes to your special abilities. The other players were dithering about what to do with the zombies shuffling towards us. I pointed out they were too slow to actually reach us so long as we kept moving and using ranged attacks. If this is D&D, then it’s “no-brainer” D&D.

And that’s why…even though it was fun and I had a good time and it was less frustrating (system-wise) than DCC…given a choice between playing D&D Next again and playing pretty much anything else, I’d probably pick the “else.” Probably. If it was another board game that had a high set-up time, maybe not. If it was an uber-crunchy RPG (like Champions) requiring hours of prep, probably not.

Then again, if my option was between D&D Next and Champions I’d probably opt to stay home…or watch a sporting event in the bar instead.

None of which, by the way, should be construed as a negative reflection on the players at the table. Most of my fun was in interacting and playing with the people around me. I singled out Julie not to point out Julie as a “bad role-player” or “boring person” but as an example of how the game does nothing to encourage role-playing…or anything…besides waiting for your turn. Other players had the same lack of “stuff going on.” Luke was doing the same thing with his thief…waiting for his turn to come so that he could roll a D20. He was in melee however (unlike the ranger) so had the extra “stuff” happening of taking damage every round. At least the wizard tactically (and cowardly) removed himself from combat when he felt he’d taken too much damage from orc arrows.

Of the group, the cleric, paladin, and fighter exhibited the most in-game effectiveness: the cleric had a variety of different effects he could do (both with spells and divine channeling), the paladin had group healing spells in addition to being a rock-hard bulwark, and the dwarf dealt a good deal of extra damage (which he was allowed to do because of his shit-ton of hit points). But the EFFECTIVENESS (or lack thereof) doesn’t mean the GAME was any more or less INTERESTING. Trying to puzzle out a sphinx’s riddle or figure out an alternative method of defeating a magical monster (that is immune to normal weapons)…these are interesting challenges. I don’t find it challenging to figure out how best to overcome a few beasties in a tactical skirmish. That’s nothing more than a jazzed up version of Space Hulk.

Now, I also said the game was a bit of a “hot mess.” What I mean is…well, it is in the play-testing stage still, but it feels like there’s been very little direction or over-sight to the design process.  Like either the designers don’t understand what they’re trying to build, or else they know but they’re so focused on minutia processes that they’re missing the Big Picture view. They’ve got a grab-bag of stuff from 1^st and 3^rd and 4^th edition, and they’re trying to blend it and patch it and update it with a “twist” and yet streamline it at the same time. If there’s a head designer he’s got ADD or he’s completely out of his element. If there are multiple designers they may not be on the same page. If this game is being designed mainly from fan feedback through the DDN play-test process that would explain a lot…but explaining it doesn’t EXCUSE it.

All right, this is long enough. Pretty meandering and not very articulate, as I predicted…but I’ve got a lot of mixed feelings on the whole thing. Allow me to wax positive for a moment: hot mess or not, it’s NOT an un-fun game. It’s just not a role-playing game and it doesn’t feel much like “Dungeons & Dragons” to me (probably because it’s not really a role-playing game). It has the tropes of D&D…dwarves and elves and fighters and clerics and armor class and saves…but it doesn’t play like D&D. It plays like a souped-up boardgame. Which is a lot less than I had expected of this project.

Still, I was glad I bothered to go. It was nice to see "how the other side games" and the group was a very good one…tight, friendly, witty, and welcoming. They had a cool group dynamic, everyone got along well, and none of the ribbing was mean-spirited. Luke asked (as we were packing up) if I’d gotten enough for a “scathing blog review” and I suppose there IS a lot of negativity on display here. But I had a good time and it’s hard to be too scathing when such is the case.

: )

The Need to Achieve

Something in Luke/Fumer’s comment on this morning's post really struck me. He wrote:

I never liked superheroes, especially for RPGs. There’s no inherent power curve in the genre, like fantasy’s peasant-to-hero arc.

Leaving aside discussions on contrary examples (Mutants & Masterminds has a definite “level up” design principle while fantasy games like Stormbringer and Barbarians of Lemuria have made a real push to distance themselves from the D&D paradigm)…leaving ASIDE those discussions, my first reaction to this is “Huh? THAT's the issue?!”

Because if I’m reading this correctly (and Luke can jump in here if I’m off base), it seems like he’s saying there’s a real problem with adapting the superhero genre to the RPG medium because traditionally comic book characters are fairly static in their power structure. A character may be Green Arrow (relatively low power) or the Silver Surfer (off-the-charts power) with little rhyme/reason as to why there’s such a great discrepancy (other than it makes for different styles/types of stories), and there’s little dynamic change in terms of growth/development that occurs. In other words, Peter Parker will never someday become Thor just because he’s had 400 issues worth of adventures.

Um…is achievement a requirement of fantasy RPGs?

I suppose the snarky answer from some quarters would be: It is of the good games. But personally I don’t buy that.

I’ve run and run in long-term Marvel Superheroes games in the past, and with good results. Now Marvel is pretty much the LAST game you want to play if your main interest in an RPG is “achievement.” Unlike say, Heroes Unlimited with its XP/Level based system, the only reward from session to session achieved is “karma,” a dynamic resource that varies based on both the type of action taken (good or bad) and the magnitude of that action. The value earned during a game session can even be NEGATIVE, causing you to face a net loss to your personal karma pool due to your cowardly or infamous (i.e. “un-heroic”) actions. Should your hero actually kill or cause the death of someone in the course of the game session, your character loses ALL accumulated karma. This is especially devastating when you consider the only way to “advance” in Marvel (improve your abilities/powers) is to expend your hoarded karma points…usually in the hundreds or THOUSANDS of points (and acquiring more than a couple hundred karma in a single session is a fairly rare and momentous occurrence).

But as I said, we ran long term marvel campaigns, using recurring characters over a series of different adventures and had a great time doing it. I don’t think ANY of the characters ever “achieved” anything as far as advancement goes…the rate of improvement is just glacially slow, especially if your characters are already high on the food chain of superheroes. But achievement wasn’t the point…the POINT was to run a campaign of superheroes in a world filled with the same whimsy and weirdness as your average Marvel or DC comic title (we didn’t actually use the Marvel characters, preferring to create our own villains/heroes…the X-Men might have been present in our universe, but they were “off-screen” the entire time). And we accomplished that with flying colors, facing super-villain teams and angry deities and voodoo magic and cyborgs that looked like Robocop but carried an attitude like the Terminator. We had pointy-eared aliens in fishnet stockings and Wolverine-wannabes and sentient carrots and rocks (all thanks to the Marvel Ultimate Powers book). There was some drama and romance and lots of unrelenting ass-kicking with plenty of stuns and slams and people getting punched through walls and getting knocked several city blocks back.

[ I think there was an Eternal that could turn people into jellyfish (or jelly sandwiches…that part’s a bit hazy)]

The point was to have plenty of dynamic fun, and achievement played very little part in it. Achieving “levels” does not suddenly open up new areas of exploration…all areas of exploration are open from the beginning. The chance of death and dismemberment doesn’t change from a beginning character to an “advanced” one…challenge is always present and you always have a chance to face it down…provided you and your compatriots keep your karma pools stocked up and ready.

Because so many of us got into role-playing through the gateway of Dungeons & Dragons (or RPGs that were heavily influenced by D&D’s achievement paradigm), there’s a common perception that achievement or advancement or “getting better” is or needs to be an inherent part of the game. But that’s a real fallacy of thinking…I mean, you need to understand where the whole concept came from.

In the beginning there was Chainmail and Dave Arneson’s desire to run a fantasy dungeon delve. Chainmail is a war game, similar to Warhammer: you pick out your forces, each piece or unit being worth a certain number of points. There are soldiers with various armor types and weapons, and there are some “special types” including heroes and superheroes (worth 4 fighting men or 8 fighting men respectively) as well as monsters of a (Tolkien) fantasy nature.

When Arneson was running his exploration/subterranean campaign he needed a system of rules to work out the results of combat between the players and the monsters encountered beneath Castle Blackmoor. All characters used the simple man-to-man combat rules found in Chainmail (based on weapon and armor type) to determine the results of combat. Later, based on the actions taken (and surprising success) of one particular player, Dave decided to promote the player’s character to “hero” status, giving him the fighting ability of the “hero” piece from Chainmail.

As I've discussed before, by Arneson’s own admission achievement/advancement was never the intention of his original dungeon campaign; advancement was tacked on (with good result) only AFTER players had been exploring the ruins beneath Blackmoor for some time and had become attached to their characters. The objective of game play was simply for characters to acquire treasure; the point of his game was to play the game: a game of fantasy exploration. Period, end of story.

Does this make sense? I mean, do people really grok this? Let’s put it another way: a man designs a game of exploration into a dark and hostile environment. The characters the players will play will face “death itself” in the form of fiendish traps and hungry monsters. What would motivate such an individual to do this? MONEY…that greatest motivator of all. The possibility of making a fortune, of becoming rich (by whatever your relative standards are) will compel individuals to do all sorts of crazy things…work long hours forsaking family and loved ones, embarrass themselves on reality TV, take tremendous punishment on a football field or in a boxing ring, betray the ethics and principles they were raised to believe. The promise of wealth will compel people of different backgrounds and personalities to work together towards a common cause.

[which is part of the reason why the paladin class…with its total disdain of wealth…makes so little sense with regard to the premise of the Dungeons & Dragons game]

Treasure hunting is the in-game justification for the player characters’ actions in D&D…at least originally. Not achievement or advancement or “leveling up.” Those things (and land titles, etc.) were a BONUS, a reward for doing what they were supposed to. It’s only the last 12 years that have seen the erasure of this justification (with the de-emphasis on treasure acquisition).

A superhero game should be viewed and approached with the same spirit Arneson originally had for his Blackmoor campaign, at least in so much as Blackmoor had no expectation of achievement. Playing a superhero game is about exploring the life of a person with gifts not given to average mortals…even if those gifts are nothing more than the courage and conviction in one’s belief in fighting for Truth, Justice, etc. ACHIEVEMENT (if even possible) should be a secondary consideration.

After all, does the tide of justice ever, finally, sweep aside the evil and corruption of those who would prey on the weak and vulnerable? Well, we can certainly hope for that to happen in the REAL WORLD…but in the game world, curing the world of all its woes would mean ending the game (and the fun we’d presumably be having by playing). Instead of reaching some end point, the general consensus for such a game would be for players to “fight the good fight,” doing what they could, before hanging up their cape and cowl…or passing over the mask to the next generation of heroes when the time comes.

Now, if you don’t think it would be enjoyable to play a game where you (or rather, your character) has super powers and faces off against the Forces of Darkness, then you should probably be playing a different game anyway. But if you DO like the idea…well, then, why do you need any sort of achievement to be inherent in the game? You have enough to worry about, stopping the nefarious machinations of Doctor Doom or the Riddler (or whomever) without any bother with regard to advancement or improvement or “leveling up.” In my opinion.

Now regarding the other possible beef raised by Luke…namely, the wide disparity of power ranges between, say Daredevil and Superman…well, honestly, that’s one of the things I love about the genre. Intellectually, it’s pretty ridiculous for Captain America to be leading the likes of Iron Man and Thor (sure Cap is a war hero, but Thor’s been THE go-to warrior god for centuries! You don’t think he knows tactics?)…but it sure makes for great copy!

Of course, you have to account for this in your game design. If you don’t, then what happens when Dazzler gets punched by, O say, anyone with a strength class equal to or greater than Spiderman…for example, and single member of the otherwise “wussy” Wrecking Crew? Answer: One dead Dazzler, that’s what. A person with the ability to punch a (small) hole in a tank will inflict devastating injury on any character not made more durable due to their superpowers. Batman, for example. One lucky punch will quite literally “knock his block off.” You want to see the original caped crusader decapitated by the likes of Bulldozer? A guy who Spiderman one-shots without batting an eye?

[by the way, if you DO want to model that kind of super world, you’ll want to direct your attention to Heroes Unlimited…though you might want to divide SDC totals by a factor of five or ten]

In the superhero world, “fortuitous circumstance” tends to conspire to keep the more squishy heroes breathing, and when modeling that world (especially due to the disparate power level between characters), you’ll want to make sure there’s something present that provides that same “safety net.” Or at least, provides the option for folks who like that kind of thing. That, too, is part of the fun. In my opinion.

Nuance

A subtle or slight variation, as in meaning, color, or quality; a graduation

- The American Heritage Dictionary

[I’m not writing dictionary meanings to seem intellectual…I’m doing it ‘cause I had to look up the word this morning to make sure I was using the term correctly. I wasn’t an English major and I screw up terms and definitions all the time; putting the meaning at the top of the post keeps me focused]

NUANCE. Slight or subtle variation. This, to me, is a good way to label the difference between most editions of Dungeons & Dragons…even those that don’t carry the name “Dungeons & Dragons.”

I was reading through my copies of Labyrinth Lord this morning in preparation for Randy’s new game Thursday (Randy, who I’ve mentioned before on this blog, is new to the DM hot-seat, but he is an exceptionally creative, smart, and funny individual and many of us have been looking forward to him running a game). Fortunately, I am still being allowed at the table (though with the stipulation I play a gnome due to the persona non grata status I’ve recently acquired) and so I wanted to brush up on the LL rules because there are nuances the distinguish it from the B/X game.

I LIKE Labyrinth Lord. There’s a lot about it I like: the presentation, the artwork, the motivation behind it and its adherence to the original B/X rules. But there are also things about it that really irritate the hell out of me. Because they are so few, I’m going to just enumerate ‘em:

- Clerics receiving a spell at 1st level. I understand why some folks like this; I know the reasons why this is preferable for some players. My reason for not liking it is two-fold: #1 I think the class is stylistically stronger to have to work for that 1st level spell (though I know many players don’t give a rat’s ass about “style”), #2 I think it immediately puts a clerical player in a position of “oh, you’re the medic (as opposed to an armored, righteous butt-kicker with a secret weapon against the undead).” Personally, when I’ve played a cleric I don’t like being placed in that role…but I probably have a poor temperament for the class in general (I know a lot of cleric players ENJOY the support role, and the extra spell is quite welcome).

- Unlimited class levels. Big whoop, right? Few campaigns were going to get up to the B/X-stipulated level 36 anyway, so who cares if classes go to 100 or 1000 or infinity? But it just makes the demihuman classes look even more undesirable…I would have preferred changing the human classes to a maximum of level 14 (the end of B/X) or even stopping at level 20 (where the LL class tables end) rather than going on “forever.” Again, this is simply a matter of taste.

- The combat matrix for player characters.

- The increased costs for armor. Why should plate mail be unaffordable for a 1st level character? Because it’s more “realistic?” There aren’t any 1st level youngsters that have inherited a suit of plate from their knightly parent? If you want to limit the amount of plate (and other heavy armor) allowed into the game simply say PCs can’t spend more than half their starting gold on any single piece of equipment; hell, set the 50% limit and stipulate they need to retain 10-20% of their starting wealth as coinage…this will limit plate mail to characters who roll a 13+ for starting gold (upper class types) and 10+ for chain mail (middle class warriors).

But that’s it…and THAT’s just nit-picking (you’ll note I didn’t list my complaints for the combat matrix; my reasoning is just a little too esoteric for this particular post). Four complaints over-all ain’t bad; the rest of the book, including all other differences from B/X (of which there are few) are things I can totally live with. And I don’t have ANY issues at all with the Advanced Edition Companion as a complement to LL (I was reading that last night, too, but I think I’ll be picking up a print copy today).If one wants to use AD&D in a B/X fashion, AEC is the way to go (sorry, Barrataria).

And ALL those complaints I’d put firmly in the category of nuance. And I can live with nuance.

Same with BECMI, an edition I have derided many times, here and elsewhere. The difference between B/X and the first two volumes of Mentzer’s opus for the most part is simply one of color…Mentzer’s book is aimed for a younger audience. Why that’s so irritating to me (now) is a matter of my own silly foibles…I’ve played BECMI before and enjoyed it, especially at low levels (we found it a bit tougher to adapt to some of the “CMI” deviations at higher levels).

Sometimes these nuances are important differences; they can have major impact on the face of the game. When the paladin class was first introduced (in the first OD&D supplement, Greyhawk) it was simply a sub-class, open to any fighter with a Lawful alignment and a 17 Charisma that was willing to live by the paladin’s rather strict requirements (never act evil, give all your wealth to the poor, limit yourself to a handful of magic items). Meet those prerequisites and you reaped the benefits of the sub-class.

Since the fighter class (or “fighting man” as it is called in OD&D) is one that's open to all PC races, one can infer that paladin status could be conferred on ANY character that met the requirements: dwarf, elf, and halfling included. Maybe I missed something in the text, but I re-read Supplement I a couple times looking for anything indicating paladins were limited to the human race and couldn’t find anything. It’s only in the AD&D Players Handbook that the paladin is prohibited to any race but human.

I actually like the OD&D paladin quite well (and THAT’s a feeling I’ve never had for the paladin class in any other edition). Compared to later versions with its spell acquisition and clerical abilities, I feel this character is well-balanced, and restricted enough (for the minor bonuses) that there’s no need to “beef up” the fighter class with weapon specializations and what-not. Plus, why shouldn’t the class be open to all who are willing to devote themselves to righteous service and duty? Why limit it to humans?

I wonder what players of dwarf paladins thought when they picked up a copy of the PHB for the first time. Probably the same way I feel every time Games Workshop comes out with a new edition of WH40K that renders my army officially unplayable.

[and, hey, if anyone sees where I missed the page in Greyhawk proscribing paladins from any race but human, please point it out to me]

But even with THAT change from one edition (OD&D+) to another (AD&D), it’s still just a nuance: a slight variation (if not a particularly subtle one). There are still paladins in both versions. The paladins have the same, basic requirements. The paladins have (mostly) the same special abilities. And what HASN’T changed is the role the class takes in the game. When you meet “Fred the Paladin,” regardless of the edition, you’ll probably be able to pin a few expectations on how he’s going to act in various circumstances, due to the behavioral requirements of the class. The slight changes in rules are just that: slight changes.

Luke, one of the guys I play with down at the Mox, has pointed out that part of the fun in playing these games (and playing different games) is achieving mastery of a game’s particular nuances. Learning the rules so as to have a higher level of play (whatever that means to you). I tend to agree with him…at least for the “gamist-types” out there (and I definitely fall into that category).

But for others who don’t care overly much about specific rules…for instance, people who just want to play a halfling thief, but don’t spend a lot of time mastering the 5’ maneuvers, flat-footed catching, attacks of opportunity, etc. that makes the rogue class strong in 3rd Edition…for the people who don’t CARE about rule "mastery," the STRENGTH of the Dungeons & Dragons line IS that the differences are simply ones of nuance. I can sit down at a table that’s using LL or B/X or AD&D or some hybrid (like Heron’s game which uses Labyrinth Lord’s AEC Illusionists but no Halflings, for example), and with very minor input I can start playing. I don’t have to learn elaborate dice pools or bidding systems or rules for “scene resolution” (not that any of these are “bad things,” mind you…just saying I don’t have to LEARN any of them) to play a game of “Dungeons & Dragons.”

Even D20 with its additional complexities is very much the same game. Classes, hit points, saving throws, attack rolls, initiative, XP, level, spell books, monsters. It’s hard to say the difference is simply one of nuance, especially when the game play is so slow and “clunky” compared to earlier, easier editions. But for the most part, the essentials (that which makes the game “D&D”) hasn’t changed. Barring a magic spell or potion, your character is still dead if you take more damage than you have hit points, and you’re going to be rolling another set of six ability scores.

For me, the nuances are important to which edition or version or variation of the game I prefer. But, as I said, I can live with nuance (well, with most nuance). And the more I play (and play different editions/variations), the more I begin to really appreciate the game of D&D and its nuances.

Not from a design standpoint…as a designer, this kind of variation and constant change and craziness makes me want to cringe at least or go play something better designed at worst. But from the perspective of a game player, there is a real power in this variation and inelegance. It allows players to play across boundaries with pretty minimal fuss, AND it shows players that the rules are NOT sacrosanct and freely customizable and here, take half a dozen different editions and cobble together something that works for YOU.

There is a lot to be said for consistency and elegance in design. And then there’s this heaping, steaming pile of Dungeons & Dragons. Much as I prefer the former, I seem to keep coming back to the latter. Maybe by being as messy as it is, it’s more true to life.

Just my thoughts of the day.

Bitching About Energy Drain

[I tried to keep this response to my last post; unfortunately, it was too long for Blogger to accept as a comment. If I sound irritable, it's because I'm watching election results...sorry, folks]

@ Fumers:

In B/X, as opposed to Labyrinth Lord, a dwarf’s attack bonus increases by +2 for every 3 levels of increase. A 7th level character hits AC 0 with a 15; a 6th level character hits AC 0 with a 17. In White Plume Mountain specifically, no monster has an AC better than -1. With his 16 strength and +2 axe, his chance of hitting AC -1 went from 9 in 20 (45%) to 7 in 20 (35%)…in relative terms, a decrease of 22.2% effectiveness, and that is the greatest RELATIVE decrease he’ll face, in this particular adventure.

However, both of these "AC -1" monsters have been avoided at this point (one was the sphinx), and a simple bless spell will increase his THAC0 to a 9 in 20, being only a relative reduction of 10%. To me, this isn’t a gross reduction in abilities…Borgnine should be okay. In addition, his other “dwarfy abilities” (infravision, trap detection, bonus languages, etc.) are completely un-diminished.

Sly the thief, on the other hand, had NO reduction in combat abilities: a 5th level thief has the same attack rank and saving throws as a 7th level thief. He lost somewhere between 15-20% on most of his abilities, but again, many skills were unaffected (backstabbing, reading languages, his ability to wear leather armor, his ability to use all weapons, climbing only down 2%). Again, I don’t see this as big a deal as you.

But your main beef seems to be the way the energy drain was encountered in this particular adventure (White Plume Mountain). Let me address your issues:

1. Rolling for wandering monsters while characters were asleep: the dungeon has wandering monsters; your party was already aware of this. Sleeping in a dungeon means checking for wandering monsters many times (once per turn, though in WPM the chance of wandering encounters is low: only 1 in 12). When a wandering monster appeared, I had your single guard (Sly) roll for surprise. He failed. I interpreted this as “falling asleep on the job,” but mechanically I did nothing more than would have occurred had everyone been awake and been surprised (i.e. the wights each got one free attack, they made attack rolls, then the party rolled initiative, then they attacked again (having won initiative), then the party got to attack and the clerics “did their thing”). The "falling asleep" was just color, not an arbitrary “screw you.”

2. Regarding wights being wandering monsters at all: wights are 3HD creatures and are considered an appropriate challenge for parties averaging at least 3rd level. Wandering monsters tend to be of equivalent or lesser level than the rest of the adventure, and these wights are fairly pansy compared to other monsters. Part of this has to do with wights being weaker in B/X than they are in AD&D (in AD&D they’d have 4+3 hit dice and thus hit MORE often). However, they have been standard "level 3" wandering monsters since the Little Brown Books of OD&D (with the same stats as the B/X monster) and neither B/X nor OD&D have restoration on the spell list.

3. Regarding "Restoration in AD&D:" Restoration is a 7th level cleric spell, not 6th, and is only available to clerics of 16th level or higher with an 18 wisdom. Even though S2 is an AD&D module, this would not be a spell readily available to characters in a levels 5-10 module (certainly not for characters of 3rd level for whom wights are a standard challenge). IF available for sale, the DMG recommends a price of 10,000 + "a like amount per level of experience of the recipient." Since the spell only raises the life level of a character by ONE per casting...that would be 70,000gp to restore Borgnine and 130,000gp for Sly. A 7th level dwarf fighter in AD&D only has 70K-125K in XP and a larger percentage of this is from monsters than gold (as opposed to B/X where monsters are worth less in XP)...consequently, Borgnine would have probably BANKRUPTED himself to increase his level one step. The thief would not have been able to afford restoration to full level.

This seems to be quite a sticking point, Luke, which is why I bother to address it. I know that tallying XP is all part of the fun (that is, when I ever bothered awarding any), and I know that getting ‘em ripped away seems like a bummer. Rest assured that if this were something other than a one-off adventure, I’d be sure to provide means of “restoring” the party members (I’m not THAT big a jerk…well, not usually). On the other hand, “shit happens” in D&D…sometimes, despite all precautions, an arbitrary roll or two can really throw a wrench in your happy world…and when that happens, you just have to roll with it. It’s the nature of the game.

I promise: I really will try to be less gleeful if such a fate befalls YOUR character.

; )

Inverted Ziggurat (P.2)

[continued from here]

“Of course there’s the little problem that everything down below is now submerged.”

Hmm…the party hadn’t thought of that. Fortunately, the wizard Keraptis had, and there was a drain in the floor leading to a gradual decline in the water level over a half hour or so. The party was fine with waiting, using the time to scale down the ledges (having tied off the rope to the door). Standing at the crack and looking at the four grinning, hungry polar bears, the party found itself a group divided.

Gustav: “I say we kill the polar bears.”

Party: “Are you kidding? They have ‘claw-claw-bite!’ They’ll kill us!”

Gustav: “I want a polar bear hat!”

This went on for awhile, but while a some abstained and most were against a straight up fight, no one had any real suggestions of how to circumvent polar bears in a non-combat fashion.

This was JB’s cue to go soft again.

“Normally, I wouldn’t suggest this,” says I, “but I know some of you haven’t played B/X for awhile, and you may have missed the Speak with Animals spell on the cleric list…um…3rd level spell, I believe.”

Well, of course, this was the perfect suggestion and the entire party over-ruled Gustav’s quest for a bear trophy. Not that he didn’t try, “Make sure you tell them we are their masters…maybe we should kill one just to show them our might for a better bargaining chip!” or “If they won’t let us pass, I’m ready with my warhammer.”

However, Alster was able to get a positive reaction roll from the bears…at least enough for them to let the party by on a “live and let live” basis. However, I did mention to Gustav that one surly mother of a bear seemed to be giving him the hairy eyeball, silently taunting him with a snaggle-toothed leer.

“I do NOT take the bait,” said Gustav.

Using a combination of the waterwalking ring and rope (duh) the party made it to the floor of the chamber, basking in the glow of the permanent Sweet T’s continual light. Tito himself needed a bit of help getting down to the chamber floor. “If I can’t actually DO anything,” asked Randy, “what’s the good of being raised from the dead?”

“You can provide moral support?”

“Um…no one has to carry your body out?”

From where they stood, they could see a vault set in a wall and a corridor leading away in the opposite direction. The vault obviously held some sort of booty…maybe even Blackrazor itself!

“Or maybe Quentin's in there,” suggested Sly. “Quentin! Are you in there?”

Terril cast detect traps on the vault. The lock glowed sinister red in color. “Oh, man…I can disarm that!” said Sly. And he did, removing a small, strange device that had no discernable purpose. With a flourish, he twisted the vault lock to reveal…a cascading pile of silver, along with a jeweled bracelet. Jackpot!

Brian wasted no time sweeping the silver coins into his bag of holding. I don’t recall who took the bracelet (probably Sly, maybe Sweet T). However, no black blade could be found.

“Hmmm…the poem said, ‘beneath the inverted ziggurat.’ I wrote that part down,” said Sly.

Maybe it’s down the drain, suggested someone.

The party pried up the drain and stared at the hole that went straight down. It looks like a tight fit, says I…maybe just wide enough for a Halfling? The party looks at Brian.

“Oh, no…I’m not going down the hole!”

Eventually the usual plan is formed, a rope is tied around the halfling’s waist and he soon crawling head first into the bowels of the volcano…

“It’s getting pretty tight, and the air is even warmer than up above, but by wriggling your body you can press forward. There’s a pretty bad smell…maybe sulfur?”

“Um…guys?”

“Just a little further…there’s probably a chamber or something.”

“You crawl a little farther. The hole…I can’t really call it a tunnel…kind of ‘jukes’ to one side and then continues deeper. You can just…manage…to squirm…”

“Guys?”

“Blackrazor’s got to be down there! Just a little further!”

“Okay, you can’t really move your arms, but by wiggling your fingers…” (I make little penguin wing motions) “…you can inch a little more. A lot of heat now…sweat pouring off your face…”

“Get me out of this f***ing hole RIGHT NOW! Goddammit! YOU go down the hole!!”

The party (a little reluctantly) pulls the Halfling up with the rope. Brian is not amused. Someone suggests that they “make camp” on the floor of the chamber. As they prepare to bed down, a watch is arranged. I start rolling for wandering monsters.

I forget who had first watch, but it isn’t long before the invisible foot prints are back…circling the party, kicking up sand, splashing through the water…and then gone. Needless to say, the guy who saw it all was a little disconcerted and woke everyone up (they hadn’t been asleep that long).

Did the party question the bears? Maybe…I know they (the bears) had little useful to say (they were used to getting fed by Mr. Invisible). The party decided to go back to sleep, and Sly offered to take next watch.

When the encounter came up, I had Sly roll to see if the party was surprised. Since he rolled a “2” (and was thus surprised) I ruled he’d dozed off. I rolled randomly to see which party members were attacked by the two wights that wandered upon them unawares.

Sly and Borgnine.

Even though the party was “sleeping” a failed surprise roll just means the monsters get a free attack roll, not an “auto-hit,” so I rolled to attack. Only Sly was hit. The dwarf was startle awake by something cold caressing his cheek…the thief was awakened by soul-searing cold as his life force was wrenched from his body! Welcome to level 6.

Round two: “A corpselike figure with sunken eyes giving off an unholy glow crouches over you clutching at your body, groping at you with pale, blue-tinged hands. What do you do?” Both were attempting to kick the thing away while yelling for the rest of the party to get the hell up! The wights won initiative for the round and both were successful in their attack rolls, draining the dwarf to level 6 and the thief to level 5.

“Wait…so I’m getting worse?” asked Vince.

“Ha! You’re lower level than me now!” laughed Randy.

“That’s what you get for falling asleep on watch!” said someone else(maybe Matt…he really hadn’t liked going down the hole).

The clerics rise up pulling their holy symbols and blast the wights into oblivion.

Somehow, the party decided to get back to “sleep,” though a double watch was set, and they got little rest on the damp hard sand. No more wandering monsters troubled them.

Upon awaking, and after passing around the healing magic, the party decided to explore the only other egress available to them…the southward leading corridor.

It ended in a door.

After watching the newly diminished thief fail his “hear noise” roll, the party kicked open the door ready for anything. What they found was a bedraggled-looking Quentin Nogg.

“More tormentors come to taunt me? I will serve neither you, nor your feeble master!”

No, no…the party explains. They are here to rescue the halfling. They gaze around the room at the sumptuousness of the surroundings. “Bribes,” explains Quentin. “The wizard Keraptis killed my party and captured me. His indoctrination process failed, and so he’s kept me here for several weeks, hoping that I will agree to be his loyal slave. You’re welcome to any of his ‘treasure’ offers.” He gestures to a disorderly heap of loot that includes a suit of human-sized plate mail.

Gustav asks if he can have the plate mail, seeing as how his own is pretty toasty. “It won’t fit me,” says Quentin. Matt asks, “If this is cursed armor, I won’t know it till I’m in combat or something, right?” Right. “Eh, I’ll put it on anyway.” Okay.

Terril, feeling all this is perhaps too good to be true casts Detect Alignment on Quentin.

Neutral.

“What about Blackrazor?” Brian wants to know. “We were supposed to find Blackrazor down here!”

“It is here,” says the Halfling, “Keraptis said he wanted me to ‘guard’ it.” Quentin pulls a beautiful mahogany case…about the size of a sword…from beneath a large cushion, opens it, and pulls Blackrazor from the satiny lining of the case. The light within the room seems to disappear in the darkness of its length, giving back only the sparkling of constellations deep within the blade’s black metal.

“I don’t think you should be carrying Blackrazor,” says Brian pointedly.

“And why should I not?” says the Halfling with a look that says ‘come and take it from me.’

Brian decides to start scooping treasure into the bag of holding instead.

***EDIT: So sorry, folks...THAT is where we left the game! Hope you weren't waiting for more action, 'cause that's all she wrote for last Thursday. The players decided that finding Quentin and Blackrazor was enough of a feather for one evening, and everyone was anxious to get home to their families (we ran a little late)...but this is where I plan on picking up the thread three days from now. Stay tuned! ***

Inverted Ziggurat (P.1)

[continued from here]

The chamber, as stated, was exceptionally large…so much so that the light of Blaarthislaarv…and even Sweet Tito’s dagger…could not reveal the room in its totality. And it was a pretty damn unusual room. Rectangular in shape, the chamber was composed of a number of descending ledges running the perimeter of the room. Each ledge (the party appeared to have entered on the uppermost one) was 10’ wide, and then dropped 10’ to the ledge directly below it, forming four ledges in total with the barely visible floor below.

What’s more each level of the chamber (besides the ledge of the party) was inhabited. The ledge directly below the party was filled with water, all the way to the level of the ledge on which the party stood…preventing the water from spilling downwards was what appeared to be a thin, translucent wall (Glass? Crystal?). Within this aquarium swam half a dozen giant crabs, each as large as a man in plate armor with huge snapping claws. Wherever the party went with its light source, the crabs swam to congregate near the edge…apparently anticipating some sort of impending meal!

The level below the crabs also had a 10’ high translucent wall, but this level was dry and covered in sand. Scuttling along this level were several huge scorpions, each the size of a pony, their wickedly barbed tails obviously envenomed.

The level below the scorpions was filled with water, similar to the crab level…however, swimming through the depths seemingly un-troubled by the darkness were the giant forms of four polar bears.

The floor, as mentioned was only barely discernable from the party’s ledge…anything present there was safely shrouded in darkness.

Reviewing the riddle-note of the wizard Keraptis (I had been kind enough to re-read it at the beginning of the session), the party decided that this must be the “inverted ziggurat” of the poem, beneath which was supposed to lie the blade Blackrazor. Their whole freak-out regarding the darkness and the levels and the monsters was thus tempered by their excitement at the knowledge that one of the prizes they sought was close at hand!

Now…what to do?

[we started our game sometime between 8:15 and 8:30 if I am remembering correctly…definitely later than usual, perhaps even closer to 9…and the group spent nearly the entire time in this chamber. And we didn’t get out of the Baranof until close to midnight. This, more than anything, accounts for my frustration with the evening…one room in 3+ hours?! However, in debriefing with my brother later on, he did point out that it was an exceptionally complicated and challenging room…and the players seemed to have fun, and that was the main point, right? Okay, AB]

After much discussion, it was decided that the circumstances seemed ideal for the use of Sweet Tito’s lightning bolt spell. By using the light to draw the crabs together in a pack/school, Sweet was able to launch a charge of electricity into the water, flash frying every single one in an explosion blue fire and sizzling seafood.

[personally, I’m fairly unfamiliar with the actual physics regarding lightning and water; however, I can recall the 1st edition DMG ruled lightning bolts underwater were treated as fireballs, and I saw no reason not to do the same…hell, it’s certainly what the player s expected]

Having thus overcome the “first hurdle” (and giving high fives all around), the players decided they needed a little more intelligence on what “lay below.” Giving Brian the Halfling the dagger of continual light, the diminutive adventure used his ring of waterwalking to venture to the very edge of 2nd ledge by walking on the water’s (now slightly lower) surface. Holding the light out as far as he could reach, he could see SOMEthing move on the sand of the chamber’s floor…and a reflection of strangely human eyes from something that shuffled like a great four-legged beast.

And then he was hit by something like half a dozen crossbow bolts.

“Shit! Shit! Pull me back!” (I forgot to mention the party had tied a length of rope around the Halfling for just such a quick retrieval). Much discussion and commotion from the players. Do we know what they are? How much could we see? What the hell just happened?

Did the creatures look like the manticore on the front of the module?

Yes…and the fact that the characters were 7th level meant I was fine with them knowing anything they possible remembered or could dredge from their mind regarding manticore. Brian had seen (in the dim light) that there were at least two shuffling around below, huge bat-like wings folded and/or dragging in the sand. Their ability to fling foot long spikes at anyone that popped over the edge was putting a decided cramp in the party’s style.

Randy spoke up: Hey, I get a bonus language still…can it be manticore?

“Sure.”

The party does the magic ring shuffle and Sweet T walks out to the edge with glowing dagger in hand. “Hello down there!” he calls in the creatures’ own tongue. Reaction roll indicated the manticores were still feeling feisty (remember Sweet had a charisma of 7) and he’s hit with a barrage of spikes. “No wait! Wait! We come in peace!” The manticores paused.

What you want? They growled up at him in the glow of the magic light. We hungry, where’s our meat?

“We just want to pass, we can offer you food…cooked crab meat!”

Reaction roll comes up snake-eyes. We only eat LIVE meat! The elf is hit with another barrage and takes a spike through the brain killing him instantly. The party…who has been standing well back in the hallway outside, feel the elf go limp in the rope and pull his body back down the corridor.

After de-spiking Sweet T, Heron (or rather, Terril the Cleric) casts raise dead to bring the elf’s soul back to his body, and the party props his bloodied form up against a wall of the corridor. “Can I sleep here?” No you need two weeks of complete and comfortable bed rest…not even magic cure spells will bring you back from one hit point. “Damn. I need a Bed & Breakfast!”

Terril decides the party needs to get a better idea of what their dealing with and casts continual light somewhere near the middle of the room. Thus lit, the party can see there are three manticores, all of whom have had their wings clipped (and explaining why they remain below).

Flightless or not, they remain a serious threat and problem. “If they only eat live meat, maybe we should have fed them Sweet Tito,” suggests someone (probably AB). “Wait, wait! I’m alive now!” But we could always raise you again after the manticores eat you…um…maybe. Can you raise someone after they’ve been digested? “Wait, wait!”

[funny enough, when I related the evening’s events to my wife later, the first thing she suggested when I told of Tito’s death? “They should feed the elf to the manticores.” She thought it was the most “practical” thing to do]

AB still couldn’t believe they’d refused the crab meat. “Don’t they know how delicious Dungeness is?” (there had already been more than a few comments about melting butter) Maybe the crabs had been their friends? Or perhaps they just weren’t big seafood eaters.

[actually the whole “live meat” thing came from the module which was specific that the creatures were only fed live food and couldn’t be bribed with rations…a common enough B/X trick]

“Well, if they can’t fly, maybe we can drown ‘em. Does it look like we could break the glass wall retaining the crabs water?”

It was decided they would try. Although, Sly had the gauntlets of ogre power, Farnsworth had many more hit points and a huge AC (-1) AND had a natural 18 strength. Heron gave him his mace +2, Brian lent him the ring of waterwalking, and the fighter excepted the noose…er…rope around the waist as he hesitantly inched out to the edge of the water.

[actually, the courageous Gustav tried first with his warhammer…though he did it completely in the dark and made nary a scratch]

According to the module, a character with 18 strength and a good, heavy mace can break the glass in 2-5 rounds. I rolled the full 5, but decided to reduce the time to 4 rounds due to the magic mace. Farnsworth started swinging with purpose and the manticores started shooting…after three rounds, Farnsworth announced he’d had enough (actually he started announcing this after the first or second round hit him for huge damage, but the party offered him healing to keep going that long).

So here we were…Mexican stand-off. The dam nearly ready to break (the glass was splintered and spider-webbed) and AB refusing to go back on the ledge…and the manticores were actually out of spikes! Each manticore had a total of 12 spikes that could be hurled six at a time. I’d already decided that only two manticore would shoot each round (total of twelve spikes)…and after shooting Brian once, Sweet T twice, and Farnsworth thrice, the leonine creatures were totally tapped out!

If memory serves, I do NOT think Farnsworth ever actually finished the job…I may have ruled he did enough damage for the glass to shatter by itself (it WAS a +2 mace after all)…I know I was trying to move things along by this point. The water washed out through the crack, and quickly filled the level below, drowning the scorpions…but being (mainly) held in place by the glass shield around their level.

Eventually, someone decided to “count” how many spikes were left on the tails (a couple of the players…including Luke, who finally showed up around 10…suspected that the creatures ammunition was limited). When I told them it appeared only “baby nubs” remained on their tails, Borgnine agreed to risk possible manticore fire to break the glass. He slipped on the ring of waterwalking AND a ring of protection AND the gauntlets of ogre power AND picked up the magic mace AND looped the roap around himself.

It only took the dwarf two hits. Then water was sluicing out through a crack in the scorpion level, washing over the polar bear ledge and drowning the helpless manticores below. Fortunately, the party had tied off the dwarf as they had with all the other characters, and the burly warrior was left hanging rather than washing out into the lower levels himself.

[continue to Part 2]

Fresh Blood at the Keep on the Borderlands (Part 2)

[continued from here]

All right...we'll skip to the killing, so I can blog my other notes.

Once in the cave proper, the younger Muir hauled up his brother and the first two men-at-arms (there being nothing to which they could tie the rope, so it was wrapped around his waist). While he helped hold the rope steady for the spindly cleric to make the arduous climb, the three humans already in the cave went about kindling lantern and torches to shed some light on the dark gloom.

Unfortunately, this was enough to attract the orcs in the guard room a mere 30' from the entrance.

And so they were set upon by half-a-dozen pig-faced orcs (they even asked, "are these the pig-faced orcs?" Yes, of course). Imagine the thief, braced and roped to his drinking buddy, only 30' up the side of the 50' cliff while more spear-wielding orcs than you can count on one hand charge out of the darkness, outnumbering you 2-to-1.

"Ho-ho my lad," indeed.

Fortunately, the party was NOT surprised, the elder brother Muir achieved initiative, and he wasted no time in launching his sleep spell into their midst, knocking them all out without a single spatter of blood.

The party wasted no time in getting the rest of the group up the rope while the Muir brothers slit the throats of the orcs and looted their bodies. Electrum! (Steve-O and AB will be sorry they missed THAT score)

To the right, from whence the guards issued, the party discovered the fairly disgusting accommodations of the orcs. Though they held their noses and sorted through the refuse, they found no more treasure (apparently, orcs don't trust each other enough to keep their loot anywhere but next to their own skin). While they considered sleeping in the orc den (in order to recover the magic-user's sleep spell), this idea got voted down pretty quick, and the party decided to explore the opposite direction.

The orcs had carved niches in the walls of the caves in which were mounted the heads of various victims, grim totems or trophies that were in various states of decrepitude (from fleshless skull to freshly decapitated orc). Just as they were really starting to get leery, the sounds of many tramping feet heralded the arrival of yet another orc patrol.

This time, there was no sleep spell to save the party, and the lead man-at-arms (Glen?) was struck down by multiple spears. However, the party DID manage to kill one of the orcs in the exchange, and the cowardly creatures broke and ran, as sheep before wolves.

Collecting their fallen comrade, the party retreated to the canyon floor to hold a funeral and discuss their next move.

Says, Luke: we need to get the hell out of here and fight something smaller than orcs. “Basically, we need to find the weakest monsters possible.”

And so the party decides NOT to return to the orc caves and set about invading a lower cave complex (in the Caves of Chaos, “shit rolls down hill” and the lower rung monsters are forced to lair beneath the tougher ones). The next cave the thief was sent to explore would be the home of the resident kobold population.

Let me tell you about kobolds…the “little dog men” as Gygax refers to them in B2. They may be runty, but they are cunning little bastards.

And the way Gygax has set them up in B2, they are dangerous little guys as well. I could probably write a five page analysis of “Gygaxian ecology” using his kobolds as a study…but I still haven’t decided if Gary was an evil genius, or just a cold-hearted bastard.

I mean, it makes sense that the kobolds have taken measures to defend themselves…after all, in a community of Chaotic/evil humanoids, if they were any LESS cunning, they’d probably be slaves a stronger tribe. Maintaining their independence has necessitated innovation and strategy on their part.

Or perhaps Gygax just wanted the kobold caves to be as tough as any other.

Well, we’ll leave the question un-answered and return to our tale: the younger Muir brother was once again tasked with scurrying up to the cave mouth, rope in hand, to do an advanced reconnoiter and anchor the party’s way up. Fortunately, there were a few tree/bushes growing near the cave mouth (the kobolds using a bit of tree cover, you see?) to which the thief could tie off the rope. And having easily scaled the cliff, Muir set about doing this.

Meanwhile, I read and re-read the kobold entry, slightly aghast. There’s a 2 in 6 chance of a wandering kobold patrol of 8 KOBOLDS showing up when the party first enters the cave.

EIGHT?!

While our little thief friend is whistling a happy tune and tying off the line, little does he realize he has a one in three chance of being ambushed by a huge posse of spears! Pretty much instant death to a lone adventurer dressed in leather armor. “Doo-dee-doo…” hummed the thief.

Look, I’ve already acquired a bit of a rep for killing characters at these Thursday night meetings…EGG was basically telling me, “here’s a potential freebie…look! It’s in the adventure.” Crap. I found that I couldn’t bring myself to do it…I made Matt roll the six-sided dice to see if death wandered up on him.

Fortunately, he rolled well.

Not realizing how close to doom he’d brushed, the thief finished tying the lines and the party climbed up to the kobold cave. Got themselves situated, fired up their torches, organized their marching order, and sallied forth.

And the point man falls into a pit trap twenty feet in.

Fortunately, the pit isn’t spiked (and he’s only bruised, not broken), but the trap door IS on a rotating pivot and they have to work a little to see how they’re going to hold it open and get Slim (or whatever the merc’s name is) out of the trap. They do so...just as the nearby kobold guard cadre decide to investigate the light and noise.

Oh, boy. Now, if I’m remembering the order of events correctly, it went down like this:

- The kobolds achieved surprised and hurled their spears (they each had one for throwing and one for stabbing). Targets were determined randomly and only one character got hit. Unfortunately, it was the merc they’d just pulled out of the pit and he died.

- In the first round of initiative, the kobolds achieved the first strike, swarming around the pit, and kill the magic-user (the elder Muir). I actually rolled a D6, killing him and THEN saw that kobolds only do D4 damage. Re-rolling with the four-sided dice, I still rolled a “4” spearing Luke’s seer through the ribs.

- The two remaining mercs moved to engage but the cleric and thief decide to bail, yelling for everyone to get back to the rope.

- Both mercenaries turn tail and are cut down from behind. A spear hits the thief in the back, and reduces him to 1 hit point, but otherwise the kobolds allow the pair to flee, having secured both meat and loot aplenty.

Gubr and the remaining Muir brother decided they’d had enough of the Caves and headed back for the Keep after this. And that’s how we wrapped up for the evening.

In debriefing the boys, it appears they all had a fun time and all intend to return this Thursday for another session. Asking Luke if he felt bad that his survival rate was so far 0 for 2 he said, “no, my death was totally fair.” I’m not sure what he meant by that unless it was that I (as DM) was impartial in my handing out of death to the players. I don’t think he meant that his character’s death was “deserved” (the attack on his character was fairly random based on where he was standing…and the dice were rolling hot).

I DO wonder if Matt and Matt’s enthusiasm would have been dampened had their own characters died. Certainly B2 is turning into one hell of a death trap for PCs…though it is weird that both my nephews and my wife were able to mount fairly successful excursions in the last year on multiple occasions…am I getting meaner? Was I “too easy” on my non-sibling family members? Were they just blessed with extraordinary “beginners luck?”

Actually, thinking back, all those earlier excursions DID include an Elf in the party. Elves are definitely the badasses of the B/X game. Plate-armored wizards have a high survivability, and Steve’s Joachim certainly gave his party a leg up prior to his untimely death (and let’s face facts: if Steve-O had made the tactically sound decision to charm the ogre, that whole party might still be alive!). Definitely something to think about, strategy-wise.

Our next game is going to be Thursday night at Gary’s Games, but we will be nipping into the Baranof for a quick drink before-hand. My brother, AB, is adamant that he will be present this time (he was sorry to miss the last session), and the New Boys said they might bring a 4th buddy (a guy named Randy). Steve is still looking busy, but Tim from Gary’s plans on playing, and who knows…maybe others will be showing up for the event.

While I still plan on running B/X (natch), I’m thinking I might take a break from B2 for the night, and running something a little bit more suitable for a one-off session (and something with a little more OOMPH). Something like a single level dungeon crawl, rather than just a low level goblin hunt. Perhaps an AD&D conversion like A1 or S2 or even the original Tomb of Horrors (now, how would one stat a demi-lich in B/X? THAT’S an interesting quandary!). Hmmm…I’ll have to think about it. Nothing TOO complicated (as I’ll be juggling far more players than usual)…but when is B/X ever “too complicated?”

; )

Fresh Blood at the Keep on the Borderlands (Part 1)

How many times can one trot out the venerable B2: Keep on the Borderlands and play it straight without stifling a yawn?

How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie-roll pop?

[a damn sight more than three, Mr. Owl...I've tried!]

And yet, this indeed was the module we were playing at Baranof's Thursday night. Matt and Matt (should I use the M&M label for them? Nah...already used earlier for Mutants & Masterminds) were new to the whole B/X thang and unfamiliar with B2, and it remains a pretty darn good introduction to the Basic game.

On the other hand, as I mentioned a bit before, there are certain aspects of the adventure with which I am, quite frankly, exhausted...the goblin caves, for instance.

So, once again, I decided to "change things up" a bit.

Here's how it went down:

[and by the way, as it is quite possible my players are reading this post, I'm not particularly worried about *spoiling* spoiling anything; if this "peek behind the curtain" gives you anything, it's most likely a glimpse into my mind and way of thinking, not any particular "trade secrets." In other words, don't feel bad for reading]

It was just as well that Steve-O and AB weren't present as the first hour or so was taken up with the standard meet-n-greet, welcome to our Fair City and My Local Bar, kind of thing. All well and good...then, of course, we had to roll up fresh characters for everyone. Luke had used Labyrinth Lord (and a handy dandy on-line app) for writing up a character before-hand, complaining that he felt he'd taken "too long" last session (his first time gaming, too, but I appreciated his politeness...as it was he ended up sitting around while Matt and Matt rolled up their dudes).

Luke's character this time around was a magic-user, sporting a short, conical hat (as in cone, NOT "comical"). He was again named something Swedish a la IKEA, where Luke has been shopping lately. Matt #1 had a thief, last name Muir (don't remember the first name and everyone took their characters with them, so I've got no notes!) with a long tasseled hood (light brown). Matt #2 had a cleric named Gubr (with an umlaut over the U). He was notable for his complete lack of athletic ability (strength 5, dexterity 8) and his tri-cornered captain's (or rather, minister's) hat. Broke as a joke, the cleric was willing to accept enough alms from the MU to purchase a shield of "fine, elven steel" (yeah, right) to go with his chain mail shirt.

Oh, yeah...relationships. Turns out the thief and the magic-user were brothers (I will refer to them as The Brothers Muir from now on), the MU and Gubr had studied/trained together (though apparently in different disciplines) and Gubr and the thief had met over a drunken brawl (we never decided if they had been fighting each other or not, but it was hard to believe the puny parson could take anyone in a fist fight...). The Brothers Muir were both Neutral in alignment and Gubr was Lawful (interesting note: this is the first time I realized that LL allows 1st level clerics to cast a spell! We were decidedly NOT using that particular rule!).

The only house rules used (besides the random hats and relationships) were 1) Max hit points at first level, and 2) all classes could use all weapons. The latter was more a method of expedience than anything else...since all weapons were doing 1D6 anyway, it didn't matter too much to me what weapons a particular class used. Besides it made sense after we discussed the whole "cleric" thing (i.e. the guy's no village priest preaching to the Faithful, but rather a Holy zealot/crusader type...pick up your damn sword!). The priest did carry both a sword and a short bow (natch), pretty much the best weapons he could afford (yes, yes..."best" is certainly relative when all weapons do D6 damage...damn it, this is a role-playing game!).

To the Keep. Luke, having gone through this drill before (and being an Old Hand I presume) was fairly strong in his presumption that they go to the tavern, hire some guys and be on their way in the morning. He also seemed to grasp that the group didn't have to worry about random ambushes and such, as any "scary narrative" I was adding was pure mood-stuff; again, my interest was getting everyone TO the adventure proper with the right mindset, not rolling for random encounters or worrying about making them set watch on the road.

[the last time we played, Luke was much more cautious, not even wanting to sleep within sight of the cave mouths when the party got to the canyon after dark]

Ah-HA! But I fooled him somewhat still! The four mercs available for hire (roll of a D4...the D4 by the way was rolling hot all night) were a surly lot that seemed to be smiling behind their hands at the the adventurers. The players found this a bit disconcerting after they'd already paid the mercs up front...they couldn't decide whether the hirelings were laughing at their "newb" status or because they planned to abscond with the pay in the middle of the night. Well, they had bigger fish to worry about anyway...

The Corporal of the Watch along with the Bailiff showed up as the party was finishing their meal and politely demanded the party accompany them to the Inner Gatehouse wherein they were given an audience with the Captain of the Watch. "We have a problem," the grizzled Captain informed them, and proceeded to tell them the following:

The Keep was the last bastion of Law and Order between the civilized Realm and the chaos of the wilderness and had stood for many generations against the encroach of the evil hordes. Yes, they were aware of the Caves of Chaos and the humanoids within, but their duty was to hold the Keep, not mount sorties on the monster tribes.

Recently, lookouts in the tower had spotted a GNOLL skulking around the wilderness, armed to the teeth and attempting to hide within the depths of an over-sized cloak, when unable to conceal itself. If the gnolls were scouting the Keep, things could be bad. The Keep had men enough to withstand an attack from the disorganized orcs or goblins of the Caves, and the Hobgoblins were too disciplined and tactically-wise to risk an assault against the fortress (too many of their own kind would be lost).

But the gnolls were another thing entirely. Chaotic in the extreme, prone to insanity within their own tribe and twice the strength of a normal man, if they were plotting to an all-out assault, it could me a strong war chief had managed to rise in power...and the gnolls would care little for the casualties they would take in attempting to eradicate the Keep. This was a potential danger that could not be ignored.

While no soldiers could be spared to investigate the Caves, the Captain was willing to reward any intelligence brought back from the Gnoll camps, especially anything regarding an impending assault. Furthermore, the Keep officer was willing to pay a bounty of 10 gold pieces per pelt for any gnolls killed.

[as a look behind the mechanics, basically this would mean award 150% experience for any gnolls slain...though in retrospect I should have made it 20gp for double XP. Ah, Witherdrool, what paranoia had you wrought?]

So onward and outward to the Caves of Chaos. This session, the elder brother Muir (in sheer contrariness to the standard "dwarven practice") volunteered that they should always "go left" whenever possible. The younger brother Muir was given a rope and told to scurry up to the closest cave, and the entire party followed after.

Should I just skip to the part where everyone dies?